Where instructors and editors talk writing.

Based
on the responses I sometimes get from students, it appears that some view the
act of researching, formulating, and writing out an argument as the opposite of a creative endeavor. There
is something about the endless rules, restrictions, and formulae of academic
prose that can frighten even the most dedicated and hard-working writers. Most
of us associate the words creative
writing with the writing of fiction, or sometimes memoir and creative
nonfiction, where the writer is in control of the basic structure and length of
the piece. Whereas in academic work, your structure, sentences, and paragraphs
are all subject to certain arbitrary standards of length, diction, and clarity.

However,
I am here to tell you that restrictions, as needless and banal as they sometime
seem, are a boon to creativity, not a
hamper on such. In fact, I would go so far as to say that creativity without
restrictions is no creativity at all, but rather free-form indulgence which too
often lacks informational or artistic merit. We as humans crave basic structure
and rules in our storytelling—it is why films like Iron Man 3 and The Hunger
Games, which adhere to classic storytelling and genre rules, continue to
break box office records, while deliberately avant-garde and anti-structure
films are rarely shown in the multiplex.

I
had a professor who once said that “all writing is creative writing.” It took
me a while to realize this is true. No matter whether you are writing a
screenplay about a charismatic superhero in red and gold armor or a study of
post-recession hospital funding, the beginning of your journey is always the
same: there is a blank page, and you need to fill it. After that page is done,
you need to fill another one, until all your ideas are structured and presented
on the page in a way you find satisfying. The way in which you structure your
ideas and argument is where the creativity comes in. Even with the most boring
and dry of theses, there are endless ways of presenting your ideas. How long do
you want each paragraph to be? It is your choice. In what order do you want to
analyze and synthesize your sources? Again, your choice. These choices you
make, many of them imperceptible in the writing process, are each individual
creative acts. Compound enough of them and what do you get? I call it creative
writing.

Here
is an example from my own life. When not reviewing Walden student papers, I
write young adult books. My first book was a history of rap and hip-hop music
for middle-school-age readers, and it was one of the most challenging writing
assignments of my life. While I loved and could opine about the subject matter,
I had trouble writing at a seventh- or eighth-grade level. I was so used to lengthy,
digressive sentences that it became difficult for me to express my love for the
music in simple, spare language. I struggled for a while to cut sentence after
sentence to make it easier for my audience to read and understand what I was
talking about. At the end, I had a book that was appropriate for my audience,
even if I had to tear up my prose from its roots multiple times to get to that
point.

Ultimately,
this helped me become a better writer. By adhering to the restrictions of the
form (in this case, writing for a younger reading level), I became able to
simplify and reduce my prose to its barest essence, which is a useful skill not
just in writing for children, but writing in general! In my case, I chafed
under these restrictions at first, but by looking at is a challenge to
overcome, I became a better writer and thinker in the process. Now when I write
fiction for younger readers, simple declarative sentences come much easier to
me. The restrictions of the form taught me something valuable that I carry to
this day.

I
urge all Walden students to keep this in mind the next time they feel helpless
in the face of a blank page. The work will
get done, even if it seems hopeless at first, even if you have to stare at
a screen for a half hour. And if you find many APA rules hopelessly arbitrary,
needless, and cruel, try thinking of them in this way: these rules are a
challenge to overcome. They will help you state what you mean with more direct,
specific, and well-researched claims. These rules are relevant in your academic
work, creative work, and anything in between. At the end of your writing
journey, you may be surprised at how satisfied you feel about the outcome. What
you will be feeling, ideally, is the creative drive, momentarily satisfied. To
me, there is no better feeling in the world.

Writing instructor Nathan Sacks believes "in the social utility of writing and its power to unite people of different classes, races, and socioeconomic backgrounds." He lives and writes in Minneapolis.

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The MEAL plan is kind of a big deal around the Writing
Center because it’s a catchy, easy acronym for remembering the essential parts
of a paragraph and a basic form of paragraph organization: Main idea, Evidence,
Analysis, Lead-in. You’ve likely heard us recommend the MEAL plan at
residencies, in our webinars, in our paper reviews, and on our website.

That lead-in part
of the acronym has always bugged me, though, and I know I’m not alone. The
trouble is that students, understandably, see the term lead-in(also sometimes called lead-out)and think they should use the last sentence of the paragraph to
transition to the next paragraph. However, the last sentence in a paragraph tends
to work better as a concluding sentence that summarizes the ideas in the
paragraph. In concluding the paragraph, the writer gives readers a chance to
digest those ideas, which helps prepare readers for—or lead readers into—the
ideas in the next paragraph. The transitional phrase or sentence that helps
move readers to the next point is more effective at the beginning of a paragraph
rather than at the end.

We’ve joked that MEAL sounds better than MEAC (Main point, Evidence,
Analysis, Conclusion) and that you want to have a full MEAL rather than a
dinner of only MEAT (Main point, Evidence, Analysis, Transition), but I still
find myself thinking of new ways to discuss paragraph organization without the confusing
term lead-in. I was at the local
farmer’s market the other day when inspiration struck: PEAS.

The
PEAS plan, like the MEAL plan, begins with the point that you’re making in that
paragraph, supported by evidence and analysis. The PEAS plan replaces the term lead-in
with the term summary, referring to a
sentence that wraps up the ideas in the paragraph and ties back to the main
point, reminding readers why the paragraph is important to the overall
argument.

You may have heard the phrase “two peas in a pod,” but pods
usually contain multiple peas. Similarly, in your paragraph, you will need more
than one piece of evidence and one sentence of analysis, and the evidence and
analysis sentences will be mixed and combined within your paragraph.

The image of several peas nestled inside a pod can help you
remember that the order of the evidence and analysis is less rigid than the
MEAL plan suggests. Not every paragraph should contain all of the evidence
followed by all of the analysis. You might have some paragraphs constructed
that way, but some paragraphs will use evidence and analysis followed by more
evidence and analysis, and some will combine evidence and analysis within
sentences. The evidence and analysis can sometimes be hard to distinguish from each
other (that’s one reason why citations are important), but they are both vital
to a strong paragraph.

Another component of a strong paragraph is unity. To push the
PEAS acronym a bit further, think about how all of the peas (the multiple
pieces of evidence and analysis) are nestled within the top of the pod (point
of paragraph) and the bottom of the pod (summary). What this image means for academic
writing is that the evidence and analysis in your paragraph should fall under
the main point of your paragraph. When all of your evidence and analysis
clearly connects to your main point, you have what’s called paragraph unity, which
helps to focus your argument.

The MEAL plan remains a useful blueprint for paragraph
organization, but if you have trouble remembering or understanding the MEAL
plan, try following the PEAS plan.

Do you have a suggestion for another paragraph organization
acronym? Share it in the comments!

A former teacher of college composition courses, Anne Shiell is a self-described punctuation geek. She recently moved to Indianapolis.

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At the Walden Writing Center, one of the
primary issues that we focus on when reviewing student work is tone. In academic writing in APA style, there is an
expectation that the tone will be objective, free of emotional statements and
evaluations that could indicate bias.

I often find myself thinking about this expectation, as I
believe that it presents a particular challenge in the work students do at
Walden. I would argue that the strength that sets Walden students apart as a
group is the genuine and deep connection they have with their research. In
order to realize the university’s social change mission, students often conduct
studies on topics and settings very close to them, addressing problems with
which they have experience. These are problems that affect them in their
personal and professional lives. As a result, they have an intimate
understanding of the search for solutions.

The passion that students bring to such work is part of what
makes it valuable and meaningful. As a reader, when I can sense a student’s
investment in his or her topic, the writing feels more alive to me, and I am
more inclined to join the student in caring about the search for an answer to
the research problem.

However, when their writing is too directly emotional,
students risk losing their academic credibility. An over-reliance on emotional
statements can indicate an under-reliance on analysis and research.

When I am reviewing dissertations and doctoral studies, I suggest
revisions when I see statements like this (fictional and slightly exaggerated)
example:

Countless teachers
lament that the implementation of standards-based accountability measures has
led to a horrifying crisis of epic proportions that has caused many children to
suffer.

This sentence, with its broad claims and passionate language
(lament, horrifying crisis, epic, suffer), comes across as an unsupported
statement of the writer’s opinion. It might be appropriate for an editorial or
speech, but it is out of place in an academic study. How
can the writer convey some of the same ideas while retaining credibility?

As noted above, one problem with this sentence is that the
words the writer has selected are too emotional. Keeping in mind that direct
quotes (and non-peer-reviewed sources) should be used sparingly, the writer
might try letting an expert express this sentiment, in something like the
following:

In a 2010 editorial in
The New York Times, [Name] wrote, “The No Child Left Behind legislation has had
disastrous and unintended consequences for our educational system” (p. xx).

Ideally, the writer would then go on to present the range of
opinions on the issue in the course of making his or her argument. The writer’s
own language throughout this
discussion should remain objective.

Another strategy is to support the claims with evidence. In
my example above, the phrase countless
teachers lament is both too broad and too emotional. How many teachers does
countless refer to, and how does the
writer know this claim to be true? Furthermore, what does it mean in this
context for children to “suffer”?

Whenever possible, students should limit the scope of their
claims to what they can defend with specific evidence from the literature. Perhaps
a survey of educators has shown that many teachers hold the view the writer is
seeking to express. In that case, the writer might try something like this:

In a 2009 national survey
conducted by [X Organization], 72% of elementary school teachers indicated that
standards-based accountability measures had not improved achievement in their
classrooms (Author, 2010).

Through the use of supportive evidence and an objective
voice, the writer can convey the extent of the problem without resorting to sweeping
claims or emotional rhetoric. When this is done effectively, the work becomes
more persuasive and gains greater impact, ultimately furthering Walden’s goal
of promoting social change.

In her role as a dissertation editor, Carey Little Brown "focuses on helping students master APA style, avoid common grammatical errors, and use concise language to develop compelling written work."

If you run into one of these
problems, or just feel unsure when using a gerund, try using the past tense of
the verb. The following examples are based on those given above.

Problem:Hiking the trail, the birds chirped loudly.

Fix: The birds chirped loudly as
we hiked the trail.

Problem: Whiledrinkingour coffee, thelionsapproached our camp.

Fix: We drank our coffee and watched the lions approach the
camp.

Problem: Afterreviewing the data, it was concluded that the
experiment was poorly designed.

Fix: After we reviewed the
data, we concluded that the experiment was poorly designed.

Problem: Beforesampling the extract, pH was determined.

Fix: Before we sampled the
extract, we determined the pH.

Problem: Yelping and whining, an early-morning jogger rushed to the
werewolf’s aid.

Fix: As it yelped and whined, an
early-morning jogger rushed to the werewolf’s aid.

Problem: A consummate high-wire artist, he assumed her wobbles were feigned
until she plummeted to the floor amid gasps from the audience.

Fix: He assumed the wobbles of the
consummate high-wire artist were
feigned until she plummeted to the floor amid gasps from the audience.

A final note: We use gerunds all the time,
whether in speaking or writing. However, while a gerund error made in speaking
can often be understood from context, it’s harder to understand a gerund error
in writing. It requires careful rereading. It may even need a proofreader.

Tim McIndoo, who has been a dissertation editor since 2007, has more than 30 years of editorial experience in the fields of medicine, science and technology, fiction, and education. When it comes to APA style, he says, "I don't write the rules; I just help users follow them."

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Abbreviations are useful because (a) they avoid excess
repetition of phrases or names (especially when long or ungainly) and (b) they save
space. Follow these tips:

Insert the abbreviation (within parentheses) after the first use of the phrase or name. Before
final submission, recheck the text to make sure the very first use was found.

However, there is no need to provide an abbreviation if the term is used only two or three times in the paper.

Especially in the abstract, where space is at a premium, do not give an abbreviation unless it is used at least twice.

Do not add abbreviations to phrases or names in headings and
subheads, whether in the Table of Contents or in the text.

Note, however, that some abbreviations are given as
words—“not labeled abbr”—in the 2005
edition of Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate
Dictionary (see APA §4.24).

The APA Publication
Manual offers this important reminder: “Use only those abbreviations that
will help you communicate with your readers. Remember, they have not had the
same experience with your abbreviations as you have.”

The Writing Center website lists further considerations such as plurals, Latin abbreviations, and units of measure. For complete guidance, see the APA Publication Manual, §4.22, p. 106ff.

Tim McIndoo, who has been a dissertation editor since 2007, has more than 30 years of editorial experience in the fields of medicine, science and technology, fiction, and education. When it comes to APA style, he says, "I don't write the rules; I just help users follow them."